upon others, and sometimes on themselves; and their imaginary dignity is
naturally heightened by a supercilious censure of the low, the barren,
the grovelling, the servile imitator. It would be no wonder if a
student, frightened by these terrors and disgraceful epithets, with which
the poor imitators are so often loaded, should let fall his pencil in
mere despair, conscious how much he has been indebted to the labours of
others, how little, how very little of his art was born with him; and,
considering it as hopeless, to set about acquiring by the imitation of
any human master what he is taught to suppose is matter of inspiration
from heaven.

Some allowance must be made for what is said in the gaiety or ambition of
rhetoric. We cannot suppose that any one can really mean to exclude all
imitation of others. A position so wild would scarce deserve a serious
answer, for it is apparent, if we were forbid to make use of the
advantages which our predecessors afford us, the art would be always to
begin, and consequently remain always in its infant state; and it is a
common observation that no art was ever invented and carried to
perfection at the same time.

But to bring us entirely to reason and sobriety, let it be observed, that
a painter must not only be of necessity an imitator of the works of
nature, which alone is sufficient to dispel this phantom of inspiration,
but he must be as necessarily an imitator of the works of other painters.
This appears more humiliating, but it is equally true; and no man can be
an artist, whatever he may suppose, upon any other terms.

However, those who appear more moderate and reasonable allow that study
is to begin by imitation, but that we should no longer use the thoughts
of our predecessors when we are become able to think for ourselves. They